Page 12 of She's My Kind Of Rain

I haven’t seen Mr. Montgomery since I spilled coffee all over him and I’m not so sure I want to. I cringe at the thought, wondering if he’ll remember me as the girl who couldn’t even handle simply handing someone a coffee, let alone running an entire department for him. Shaking my head, I notice my dad’s guitar in the corner of the room. A gentle reminder of all I have worked for and the reason I can’t let doubt stop me from pursuing my dreams.

I show up to Telluride Records early, only to find out that my version of early seems to be everyone else’s late. A single seat remains open, so I advance towards it, smiling as I pass by all of the other applicants.

“Hey, I’m Daisy.” I smile, reaching out my hand, as I sit down next to another applicant after she makes eye contact with me.

She gives me a curt nod in response, but doesn’t reach to shake my hand or speak further, and I take that as a sign to leave her alone. She’s dressed in an expensive suit, with red bottom heels, which makes me question my simple black tea-length sundress, denim jacket and pink flats.

The quick realization that not everyone here in Nashville is as kind as Kaylee makes me that much more glad that we crossed paths when we did. I doubt I’ll ever be asked so directly tobe someone’s friend again. But that boldness earned me one of the best friends I’d ever met. In the last few short weeks, we’d gotten to know each other on a whole new level than any of my superficial, surface level friendships during high school. Those samefriendshipsthat ended once they left for college. I laugh to myself about the oddness of her acquisition to be friends, a touch of happiness returning to my face, because without her, I don’t know that I would have been able to cross the threshold of this office today.

I sit here, tapping my foot and fidgeting with the bracelets on my wrists as I watch the clock, waiting for my turn to interview. I’m not unfamiliar with being nervous, but if Dad had taught me anything, it was to push past the nerves and fears and be confident in my abilities and whatever I set my mind to. I take a deep breath, channeling every ounce of positivity and hope I’ve got, ignoring how small the room feels with so many other applicants seated, waiting their turn—women and men most likely equally as capable as me. But despite my nerves, I won’t let the whispers of worries deter me. I’ve got this. I am smart, I am capable, and I am going to get this job. I can feel it.

A lot weighs on me getting this job. And in the end, it’s not just a job to me. It’s validation. Validation that I actually have what it takes to be here in Nashville. Validation that moving here, making the most terrifying decision I’ve ever made, wasn’t for nothing.

Each passing moment feels like an eternity, until finally my name is called.

“Ms. Halloway, Mr. Montgomery will see you now,” the secretary says.

I stand and dust the wrinkles from my dress and wish the girl who was rude to me luck. Sending her the most personable smile I can muster—a silent gesture to further thank her in helpingset my drive for this position that much higher—I make my way toward the door the secretary stands in.

The hallway is lined with bleak decor. Nothing like I imagined for the top leading country label in the world. I had always envisioned that the walls would be lined with records, encompassing all of the success that has walked these halls. Instead, there are simple art pieces of line-drawn cowboy hats, and photography of no one specific, riding horses, or on a ranch.

Blake Montgomery is the head of the record label and probably one of the most intimidating men in the industry when it comes to his credentials. Gina used to say that what was most intimidating about him when he scouted was his cool demeanor and the way you can’t fully tell if he’s enjoying what was presented before him or if he was counting the minutes until he could leave. Since I only met him in passing—most of which is now an embarrassing blur—I have no idea what to expect professionally from him. My first impression of him wasn’t that he was cold, he was rather the opposite, and I hope my second impression proves to be similar, minus me making a fool of myself .

The closer I get to his office, the more my hands start to tremble and my nerves feel as if they may end up being the fall to this entire opportunity that has been given to me.

This is your chance, Dais. You got this. This moment won’t come again.

We reach the door to my potential future and I find my heart starting to race in my chest. Taking a deep, calming breath, I smooth out my outfit one last time and step through the door.

“Hi, Miss Holloway, nice to see you again. What, no coffee this time?” He chuckles, reaching to shake my hand. His grasp is firm, but not tight, and his gaze warm and welcoming. Just as before, I feel a bit starstruck by him. Unlike the older gentlemanfrom Tansy, he’s not only put together, but has an aura of confidence about him.

I let out a soft laugh in return, trying to make light of the fact that he notices who I am immediately. I wonder if that’s a good or a bad thing, and if he’s just trying to be polite.

“Hello, Mr. Montgomery, it’s nice to see you again. And, I too am particularly glad that spilling coffee on you won’t be involved.” I take a seat across from him at his big oak desk, noticing that, unlike the hallway, his office itself is decorated in the kind of trophy memorabilia that I expected to be on every wall of the entire building. Photos of him and artists are scattered throughout, as well as records and awards tastefully placed on shelves behind his desk. The only photos I can’t see are those that face toward him, presumably his family or his most favorite memories.

He pulls my resume off a stack of others that still remain on his desk. “I’ve glanced over your application more than once, Miss Holloway. Are you aware we recently acquired Wellington Music Group? You did not need to drive all this way for an interview, we have already requested all previous employee records and recommendations from Mr. Wellington. He and his wife had made a point to mention you specifically as someone to consider once we hire for that office.”

Emotion consumes me, and I pause, trying to compose myself before I respond. I’m so grateful for Gina having gone out of her way another time for me.

“Oh, no, sir. Actually, Mrs. Wellington didn’t even tell me what company had acquired them. I came to Nashville on my own accord.”

“Interesting.” His tone is hard to read as he laces his fingers and places his hands on his desk. “Well, let’s start the interview now, shall we?”

I silently nod and hope that all of the mock interviews my mom and I ran through during our chats will help me with whatever kind of questions that may come up. I gulp and place my hands in my lap to try and prevent myself from overly gesturing while I talk.

“I’m going to skip over all of the rather basic questions about yourself, because, as I’m sure you saw, there are many people waiting and I can find all of that information right here.” He points down to my resume, and I nod again. “What is your favorite part about being an A&R Rep?”

I expected him to come out swinging with a hard question, instead he asks me something I don’t feel I need to think much about. “Well, Sir, my favorite part about being an A&R Rep is finding a diamond in the rough. I think that there are many people out there who can sing well. What I look for while selecting potential clients is awow factor.” I don’t let him ponder for much more than a second before I continue, “The artists I look for are the type that show up in an unexpected place, stop everyone in their tracks, and give you goosebumps. If they don’t have something about them that makes you hang on to every note that comes from their mouth, then they are just ordinary. I look for extraordinary.”

I catch a glimpse of a smile that subsides just as fast as it came, and my nerves diminish for a moment to take in what could potentially mean he’s impressed. He jots something down on the back of my resume then places it back onto his desk right side up.

“Besides job experience in this field, what do you believe makes you qualified to perform what is expected of you in this position?”

“I think something that has improved my ability to be an A&R Rep is my experience in other aspects of the industry. At a young age, I learned guitar, I’ve sung for crowds, and I—” I hesitate. I should have left out anything beyond what I previously mentioned, but it’s too late, so I continue, “I’ve written songs. I believe knowing what the industry is like from more than one angle gives me a more diverse understanding of what is required for each step of the production process, how the production works, and who in the industry will be the best fit for the clients I work for.”

He nods to my response, not giving any sign of emotion to let me know how well I am doing. My palms begin to sweat and I open them, gliding them against the fabric of my dress before placing them back in my lap.

“What do you feel your biggest strength is?”

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